


Long Live the King

by snflwervol69



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dream has a praise kink, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hair-pulling, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Light Choking, M/M, No beta we die like lmanburg, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, very light angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snflwervol69/pseuds/snflwervol69
Summary: He doesn’t know what the plan is, he’s really making this up as he goes, but when he sees Dream is staring at him, those green eyes already begging, he knows he has no reason to worry. He should’ve known. They’re always going to come back to one another.In which, George is king, and he's just gotten a new knight.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 22
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if any ccs decide fanfics make them uncomfy this will be deleted immediately. also,,,,, i started writing this randomly, and i know it'll have multiple parts but idk how long it will take me to write the rest so please be patient. k that's it, enjoy :)

George always hated funerals, but as far as they go, this wasn’t bad. 

He didn’t dislike his previous knight, but he hardly knew him at all. He knew he should feel something, shame or guilt. This man had died after pledging his life to protect the King. He died for George; all because he decided that his midnight stroll through the forest—the only time he was ever alone—was more valuable than this man's life.

George sees the knight’s wife crying, and as hard as he tries, he feels no pity. Her husband knew what he was preparing for the second he chose to become a knight. George was far more worried about who would take this man’s place.

There were plenty of options, but one stood above all the others. George hated the option, but even he knew it was the only one. He tried everything, commanding the cabinet, and practically begging them not to, but in the end, it was the advisors who chose the next knight, not George.

_ I haven’t seen him in years,  _ George reminds himself.  _ He’s probably different. _

The last time he saw Dream, they were still in school together. That had been years ago. He made George’s life hell at the academy, always taunting him, making George feel inferior. It was back before George’s bloodline had been revealed. His royal status has been carefully protected for his safety, but without that status, he felt like he was nothing. Dream made him feel like nothing.

When George was finally revealed to be the prince after the death of his father, he had been so excited to return to the academy and finally rub it into Dream’s face. George wanted to prove that he was better than Dream, but when he returned, Dream had withdrawn from the academy and had already begun his training to be a knight. 

Before he had left, Dream had always been so full of himself. So confident and cocky, and now that he was the best knight in the kingdom, his ego would have only grown. 

His confirmation would happen in a few days—George wanted to allow his previous knight to have a few days of glory before a new man is brought in and the attention shifts to the King's newest guardian.

George vowed that this time, he would finally have the power he always wanted. He could turn the tables, finally being the one with the status. This time, he will finally be in control. 

He should’ve known. 

Of course, Dream wasn’t going to change. He spent years training to be a knight, always at the top of his class. His arrogant demeanor has only grown. 

His energy seems to fill the entire room and George feels like he’s suffocating. They’ve only made eye contact once and George isn’t sure if he got butterflies or if his blood began to boil. Dream’s attractive—scratch that, he’s fucking gorgeous. George won’t deny that, no matter how bad he wants to. 

He only lets himself stare when he knows Dream isn’t looking. George is seated at the front of the room in his throne looking out over the crowd. Dream is standing at the front of the aisle and George’s highest advisor stands in front of him. 

Dream towers over the old man, and he stands with his chin up. The sunlight is pouring in the windows overhead and his blond hair gleams. George won’t deny that he looks impressive. For once, everyone's eyes are not on the King, but his knight. Dream has captured everyone’s attention, even George’s.

“Repeat after me,” the advisor says, “To take your oath, and pledge your loyalty to the throne, and to your King.”

Dream swallows and looks up at George, sending a shiver down his spine as their eyes meet. He notices the way Dream smirks before shifting his gaze back to the advisor.

“With this shield, I will protect the royal family with all I am, and will gladly give my life to save the throne. With this sword, I will strike down enemies of this kingdom. As a knight I pledge my life to the King, and I vow to give all I have to the crown.”

Dream’s voice is steady, and though it isn’t loud it seems to fill the whole room. George can’t keep the smirk off his face as he watches Dream practically sign his life away, giving everything he has to the throne. George rises from his chair and steps off the pedestal, following the carpet towards Dream.

He stops a few feet away, not wanting to show how short he truly is compared to Dream. George takes the sword from his advisor, the jeweled handle feeling cold in his grip. He turns back to Dream, and for the first time, he sees a shred of doubt in Dream’s eyes.

“Kneel.”

Dream swallows again, his Adam's apple bobbing and George stares at the exposed skin, wondering for a moment what it might feel like to wrap his hands around it. Wondering if Dream would beg.

George lifts the sword, placing it on one shoulder, and then the other, reveling in the way Dream flinches as the blade falls. He probably thinks George might try to stab him, and George considers it, but if Dream’s dead then George has to go through the whole process again. It’s far too much work, and besides, something tells him this is going to be fun.

“Long Live the King,” George’s advisor says from beside him, and George looks straight at Dream whose confident demeanor is entirely gone. George smirks at him; the boy who had tormented him for years, now kneeling in front of him, completely at George's mercy. When Dream speaks, it’s hardly above a whisper, but George hears him.

“Long Live the King.”

Assassination rumors aren’t even fun anymore.

This is probably the third time this week George has been rushed off into hiding. Today he’d been taking a walk through the gardens. The asters are in bloom and he loved walking through the garden this time of year. He could feel the last breaths of summer, and autumn just around the corner. He’d found a bench and was enjoying the sun, when one of the staff came running through the garden making a fuss about some new rumor flying around.

He would be stuck inside until the morning at least, maybe longer, which he didn’t used to mind. Usually, he’d grab a book or two and sit in the bunker reading or sketching, but that was back when his old knight still served him. Now George would be trapped with Dream, and honestly, he’d rather just get assassinated. 

In the past few weeks, Dream had regained his confidence. They tried avoiding each other, but that was impossible. Dream was almost always required to be by George’s side, but even then they would simply ignore the other. Whenever they did talk it was like every word had teeth and they were each trying to make their words hurt.

When George reaches the bunker, Dream is standing outside the door, along with one of George’s advisors. He resists the urge to eye roll when he sees the way Dream is leaning on the door frame. He’s nowhere near prepared for any sort of fight. He’s not wearing armor and his sword is propped up against the wall.

George doesn’t say a word to him as he enters the bunker, which is actually beautiful. It’s laid out similar to George’s bedroom, but without any windows. Even in the absence of natural light, the whole room is covered in a golden glow, and the crystal chandelier is bright overhead. 

He settles on his bed and reads by himself, letting the hours pass. He just wants this to go by as fast as possible and get it over with. 

After he finishes his first book, he looks up and stretches, noticing that Dream must’ve changed, because he’s wearing his netherite armor, with his sword on his back, an axe at his hip. His shield is against the wall next to the door, and Dream stands tall. He looks ready for battle.

“Did you like it?” Dream asks.

“What?”

“That book. It’s one of my favorites.”

“I didn’t realize you were literate,” George says. He’s not really in the mood for any kind of conversation right now, though he can totally understand why Dream liked the novel. It was good, definitely one of George’s favorites now too, but there’s no way he’d ever actually tell Dream that.

“Sorry for trying to start a conversation,” Dream says sarcastically, and George hears the anger creeping into his tone.

“Sorry Your Majesty,” George reminds, gritting his teeth.

“Excuse me?”

“You address me as Your Majesty. I am your King.”

“Right, I totally forgot you were king,” Dream says. “That’s why I’m voluntarily spending a night here with you.”

“Regretting being appointed to the highest-ranked position in my cabinet?” George asks, his tone is dangerous. He can remove Dream’s knighthood in an instant.

At this, Dream seems to retreat back into his shell. “No sir—I mean, Your Majesty.”

A soft smile plays on George’s lips. “That’s better.”

George almost goes back to reading, but he has an idea. It’s terrible, but irresistible. “You are loyal to the crown, correct?” he asks.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Dream says.

“Prove it,” George says, reveling in the way Dream jumps at the words, his green eyes meeting brown.

“How?” he asks, his voice is timid and quiet, unlike George has ever heard.

“Kneel.”

Dream drops to one knee, his armor clanging against the floor.

“Recite the oath,” George commands, and he takes notice of the way Dream’s cheeks flush red.

“With this shield... I will protect the royal family with all I am,” Dream stutters.

“You’ll protect me. There is no one else left in the royal family, your allegiance is to your king.”

Dream swallows, “I will protect the King… with all I am. With this sword, I will strike down enemies of this kingdom.”

Dream falls silent, frozen under George’s gaze.

“Why’d you stop?” George muses. “You’ve missed the most important part.”

“As… as a knight, I pledge my life to the King,” Dream says, looking at George, his breathing quick, heart racing. “I vow to give all I have to the crown.”

George hears Dream’s sigh of relief as he finishes the oath, and he smirks. George picks up another book, but before he opens it, he looks to Dream once more.

“I like you on your knees.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not very good at writing actual smut so,,, sorry if its bad lmao

George would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy ordering Dream around. Sometimes he’ll give him an order just to see the way Dream gets flustered every time George says his name. 

He doesn’t talk back anymore, and the cocky attitude is gone. Sometimes George isn’t sure if Dream is afraid of him or not, but then he sees the way Dream stumbles over himself just to please George. It seems like all Dream wants is to make George happy, and he likes that plenty—maybe even too much—but never enough to stop himself. Besides, Dream looks pretty when he blushes. 

There have been no more rumors, meaning George doesn’t have any other opportunities to spend the night with Dream, but it’s nice to have some time alone. He’s able to take walks through the garden again without his staff breathing down his neck. 

He’s picked a couple of flowers each day and he always leaves them in the room that used to be his mother’s. Her favorite vase still stands on her dresser, exactly where she had left it. 

He misses her less and less these days. He had been so young when she’d passed that he hardly had any memories left of her. Even without her, he thought his father had done a fine job raising him. 

The anniversary of his father’s death is approaching and he’s trying his best not to think about it. It was hard to properly grieve for his father when he was pushed into the spotlight so soon. George visits his father’s grave every year, and this time he’d have to bring Dream along. 

He doesn’t want Dream to see him like that. Broken and vulnerable. It reminds him far too much of a past he would rather forget. He’s only just now regained some semblance of control. He won’t lose that. He’s having far too much fun. 

He loves how Dream stands visibly straighter whenever he enters the room. Dream looks surprised every time George addresses him, even if they’re the only two people in the room. George likes the flutter in his chest every time he makes Dream blush. He’s so used to feeling numb that he accepts any emotions with open arms.

For a while, it’s enough. George never pushes the boundaries they’ve set, but the longer Dream spends at the castle, the more comfortable he becomes. He no longer flushes red every time George says his name, soft enough that only Dream could hear—like a prayer, just for him. 

If George had even an ounce of self-control, he wouldn’t have done it. He knew how dire the consequences would be if it went the wrong way, and yet, he couldn’t make himself stop. He’s never had much restraint anyways.

When he finds Dream, it’s late afternoon and the sun casts a golden glow throughout the library. George can see the dust floating through the air as he walks through the room—which is entirely empty, except for Dream, who is curled up in an armchair. It’s odd to see him like this, looking so young and almost innocent. George has grown used to seeing him in armor, a sword on his back, always vigilant and ready for a fight.

Here in the library, his guard is down, and for once he looks like a person. George avoids seeing him when he’s in armor, he looks too mechanical, but right now his armor is nowhere in sight. His knees are drawn to his chest and there’s a book covering his face. He doesn’t even notice George enter the room.

George practically glides across the room, his cloak brushing against the smooth hardwood as he makes his way across the room. As the sunlight hits the jewels in the crown atop his head, the light reflects around the room in rainbow specks. George catches himself wondering what Dream would look like in that crown, but pushes the thought away instantly. 

From over Dream’s shoulder, he recognizes the book he’s reading. It’s a good one, which is probably why Dream is so captured by it, not noticing George behind him.

“I liked that one,” George says softly, sweeping some of Dream’s hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear.

Dream nearly jumps out of his skin and the book falls from his hands, clattering to the floor. Dream looks stunned and stares back at George, who laughs lightly.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?” 

Dream stutters a bit, and in the end, says nothing. He just picks the book up and closes it, placing it on the table next to him, the whole room quiet, and yet the silence is deafening.

“Your hair’s getting long,” George comments, tucking the same strand out of Dreams eyes again. At this, Dream seems to regain some composure, and he answers shakily.

“Would you like me to cut it?”

George laughs and shakes his head, tangling his fingers in Dreams hair. It’s softer than he imagined and the sunlight makes it look more golden than blond. George takes notice of the way Dream leans into his touch, eyelids fluttering as George’s fingertips brush his scalp. George smiles softly, taking in the scene before him, and he realizes suddenly that this is the first time he’s ever actually touched Dream.

He sees Dream relaxing under his hands, chin tilted up, leaning into the touch. George tugs at Dream’s hair and it’s so sudden that Dream hardly has any time to realize what happened as he lets out a stifled moan. George feels the butterflies in his stomach go wild at the sound, and a smile plays on his lips.

“Don’t cut it,” George says. “If you did I wouldn’t be able to hear you make that beautiful sound again.”

Dream is blushing again, but he still hasn’t pulled away. George’s hands are still tangled in his hair and he makes no move to change that.

“I’ll need to see you tonight,” George says, enjoying the look in Dream’s eyes. “We have a lot to discuss about security,” he tells him, knowing full well that palace security is someone else's job. 

Dream knows this too, but he nods quickly, making it clear that he’ll be there. As Dream looks up at him, George notices a faint scar running down his cheek. George lets Dream’s hair fall through his fingers, and he traces the scar, Dream tilting his chin so that his face is sitting in George’s palm.

He lets his hand fall away as he says, “Ten pm sharp. No later,” and then he turns around, not once looking back. He’ll see plenty of that pretty face later.

Dream actually shows up early. It’s only by a few minutes, but George can feel Dream’s eagerness through his actions. He still isn’t wearing armor and he leaves his sword by the door. He still stands infuriatingly straight and even without his weapons and armor he still looks like a knight. Dream looks like a rubber band waiting to snap, but George has no intention of rushing.

“You’ve attended a meeting with the council recently, correct?” George asks. He already knows the answer, but he’s heard so little of Dream’s voice. It’s rough and low and he absolutely adores it.

“I have Your Majesty.”

“Have they talked at all about relations with the neighboring kingdom?” Their kingdom had been fighting back and forth with their neighbors—the kingdom of Arbor—for years. The first war was fought back when his father was alive, and though peace had been negotiated, tensions were still high. Arbor was where all the assassins came from, constantly trying to destroy the throne and destabilize the kingdom.

“They’re getting better,” Dream says. “Their royal family is looking to sign a truce eventually, but there are still small groups, usually farmers or peasants, who want to continue fighting.”

“They still want to kill me,” George says, but he’s honestly not that concerned. He’s made it this far, and he knows Dream can and will protect him, along with the rest of the palace guard.

“I would never allow that to happen.”

George smiles softly. “Good boy,” he says, and Dream shudders, a blush rising into his face. George’s smile grows into a smirk as he rises from his seat.

“You like that, don’t you?” he teases. “Good boy,” he repeats, and his smirk only grows when he sees the way Dream responds. “That’s it isn’t it? Praise?”

Dream freezes, and won’t meet George’s eyes even though he’s standing right in front of him. George places his fingers under Dream’s chin and raises it, so Dream’s eyes meet his own. “A nod will do,” he says, and Dream nods ever so slightly.

George leans in, but he turns his head so their cheeks are almost touching. He can feel the electricity in the air as his hand travels from Dream’s chin to his neck, squeezing gently. Dream leans into the touch and George smiles. 

“Good boy,” he whispers, his lips next to Dream’s ear. He loves the way Dream shudders, and even though he towers over George, Dream is still putty in his hands. George pulls Dream closer by the collar of his shirt and he can feel how hard Dream is, George’s leg in between Dream’s.

George pulls back so they’re face to face, and their noses are almost touching. Dream’s close enough that George can feel each breath, and their lips are dangerously close to touching. 

“Kneel,” George says, and Dream’s eyes go wide.

When he drops to the floor, it’s a graceful motion. Every motion has a purpose with Dream. He walks with poise and elegance, almost like he’s demanding attention. George has only ever watched him train once, but even when he’s fighting, he’s graceful.

Dream unbuttons George’s pants, and he laughs softly. “Someone’s excited,” he says, but he doesn’t stop him. George tangles his hands in Dream’s hair once more, pulling harder than he had in the library. This time Dream doesn’t hold back his moan, and it’s the best sound George has ever heard.

When Dream touches him, George lets his head fall back, eyes closed. It’s been a long time since anyone touched him like this, and he’d been thinking about this more than he’d like to admit. Nowadays, it seemed like every time he touched himself, he always thought of Dream.

George is brought back into reality when Dream licks a stripe down his cock, and takes the tip into his mouth, before pulling back. George is already breathing heavy and the scene before him is better than anything he’s ever imagined. 

Dream takes George back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head making George moan, but he pulls away, grinning at the sound. George yanks on his hair.

“Don’t tease,” he says, and Dream knows it’s a warning.

This time, he takes as much of George as he can, bobbing his head. George pulls his hair gently, guiding him up and down, as well as moving his hips, fucking into Dream’s mouth. He can see Dream’s green eyes watering, but he takes George anyway, giving everything he can.

When George comes, it’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. No one has ever been able to make him feel this way, and though Dream gags a little, he still swallows. George kneels next to him and wipes the spit off his chin, smiling softly.

“You did great,” he says, and he says it so tenderly it surprises them both. George cups Dream’s face in his palm, tracing the scar from earlier.

“What’s this?” he asks, the line feeling rough under his fingertips. Dream turns away, and George recoils a little. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright,” Dream says, smiling softly, but it’s tight and guarded. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” George says, trying his damn hardest not to be disappointed. It’s not like this was supposed to mean anything anyway, but after Dream leaves George feels a hole in his chest that doesn’t go away, even in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this went in a different direction than i originally planned but I'm not mad about it. i hope y'all are still enjoying this. have a lovely day/night and make sure to take care of yourselves my loves <3


	3. Chapter 3

George and Dream don’t cross paths for a week. George decides it’s best to give Dream space and let him come back when he’s ready, which he eventually does. 

It’s early in the morning, and George is sitting in the empty library. He’s been coming here a lot recently, hoping maybe he’ll run into Dream again, but he's never here. George usually reads alone for an hour or two before being overwhelmed by daily tasks.

The sun is streaming through the window behind him, the light chasing away the morning chill. He’s rereading the novel he’d finished the night in the bunker when Dream had said it was his favorite. He jumps a little when he hears someone clear their throat from behind him. 

“Your Majesty?”

George turns and finds Dream standing there, hands behind his back. He’s not wearing armor, but his sword hangs at his hip. George closes his book.

“The meeting’s about to start,” Dream says.

George rises from his chair and Dream reaches out, taking the book from him. Their fingers brush together for a moment and Dream blushes, a small smile on his lips. George lets out an involuntary sigh of relief. _They’re okay._ He smiles back and waits for Dream to put the book back on its shelf.

“Ready?” Dream asks. George brushes Dream’s hair out of his face and cups Dream’s cheek in his hand. Dream leans into his touch and George savors the warmth of Dream's skin against his cool fingers.

“Yeah,” he says, and lets Dream lead him out of the library.

Meetings are held in the throne room, and when Dream and George enter, everyone falls silent. A long table has been placed down the center, and George passes by his staff and a few noblemen from the kingdom as he makes his way to his throne that sits at the head of the room. 

The whole table stands as he passes, and they don’t sit down until he does. Dream stands next to him, almost fading into the shadows, but George can feel his presence. 

George’s senior advisor stands up and begins the meeting. These meetings don’t fully involve George, he's usually just an overseer and doesn’t usually participate in any discussions. Today, though, the topic presented was actually his idea, and he finally felt like he was doing something important for his kingdom.

“The anniversary of the armistice is coming up,” the advisor announces. “This year will mark 30 years since we made peace with Arbor, and His Majesty suggested we hold a festival to show that our kingdom still holds peace as our greatest strength. It is also an opportunity to show that our King is not shaken by the assassination rumors.”

When George stands up, the whole room goes so quiet he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. “If I can show the people that I hold no animosity towards Arbor, and I have no fear, then they will follow that example. We must all work together if we are to achieve long-lasting peace.”

“I don’t mean to contradict you, but taking recent events into account, I just don’t think it’s safe enough for you to appear in public, Your Majesty,” George’s highest-ranked General says. General Claude has been taking care of George ever since he was still a baby, and he was the first person to take him to the gardens. After the death of George’s father, General Claude had done everything he could to be there for George, so he was only looking out for him. He was making a fair point, but George couldn’t step down.

“Dream will protect me,” George says confidently, noting the way Dream stands up a little straighter when George says his name. 

The general nods. “As will I.”

After getting approval from the council, planning for the festival began. At this point, George sat back and watched, waiting for the meeting to finally finish. In the end, the festival is to be held in a week, on the anniversary of the end of the war.

After he dismisses the council, George walks back to his room with Dream at his side. When they arrive at the door, Dream nods and says, “Your Majesty,” before turning away and walking down the hall.

“You haven’t been dismissed,” George says. He didn’t mean for it to sound like a threat, but when Dream turns back around he just smiles.

When George opens the door to his bedroom, Dream walks in first, not saying a word. George closes the door and locks it behind them. He doesn’t know what the plan is, he’s really making this up as he goes, but when he sees Dream is staring at him, those green eyes already begging, he knows he has no reason to worry. He should’ve known. They’re always going to come back to one another.

George tugs on the hem of Dream’s shirt with one hand, slipping the other underneath. Dream’s back arches and George grins.

“Off,” he says, lifting the hem higher. Dream grabs it and pulls the shirt off over his head, George laughing a bit at the way Dream’s hair sticks up. He runs his hands through Dream’s hair, which is getting long enough it’s starting to curl a little. 

George kisses Dream’s shoulder and drags his teeth over Dream’s exposed collarbone. George kisses down his chest, leaving hickeys as he goes. Dream is squirming under his touch, and George loves it. Every time he leaves a new mark, or kisses over a sensitive patch of skin, Dream moans.

George loves leaving marks. Even though he knows Dream isn’t his, every time he sees a new bruise blooming against Dream’s skin he feels a sense of pride. George revels in it—every gasp, every moan—it’s like music to his ears.

George stands up and pushes his hand flat against Dream’s bare chest. Dream is staring down at him, mouth slightly open, eyes half-lidded. George pushes him down onto the couch and climbs onto Dreams lap. George’s tongue traces Dream’s jawline, and he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, careful not to leave a mark Dream can’t cover up.

Dream is hard underneath him, and George’s own erection is becoming painful. He grinds his hips down and when Dream moans in his ear a shiver runs down his spine. Dream places his hands on George’s hips and it’s the first time George realizes how much bigger Dream really is. 

George rolls his hips and Dream buries his face in the crook of George's neck. Dream bites down gently as George grinds into him. George lets his head fall back, giving Dream better access as he continues grinding their hips together. 

He can feel his release building as Dream rolls his hips up. George feels like he’s losing himself as their hips rock together, and for once he’s okay with losing control. He’s trusting Dream more and more, and he isn’t sure if that excites or scares him. 

George calls out Dream’s name when he comes, and Dream grips his hips hard enough it’ll certainly leave bruises. 

Dream’s breathing is heavy but when he looks at George he smiles and George grins back, laying his head on Dream’s shoulder. Dream’s arms hesitantly wrap around George’s waist, and George's smile grows. He slips his arms around Dream’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer and tangling his fingers in Dream’s hair.

There’s an obvious shift from last time, a difference in feelings. George doesn’t want to care, but when he thinks of the past, he hates himself for letting things go this far. He feels himself falling headfirst, and it’s entirely his fault. 

He knows that his past self would be so disappointed. Dream made him feel like he was nothing when he was younger. A wound like that had taken years to heal, and now George was practically handing Dream an opportunity to hurt him all over again. George is terrified. He feels like he’s hurtling towards disaster and yet, he doesn’t want to stop.

Dream’s arms are around him, holding George steady, and his hands are tangled in Dream’s hair which is still ridiculously soft. Sitting in Dream’s arms, he actually feels safe. Dream is tracing circles and holding George close. 

They’re not kids anymore. Dream isn’t the person he used to be. George has to give him a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> every time i write i can feel this story taking shape and i love the way it's turning out. i hope y'all are still enjoying this. take care of yourselves my loves <3


	4. Chapter 4

On the day of the festival, George is woken up early. 

He’s nervous and it’s hard for him to finish his breakfast. He just wants this day to go well for his people. Ever since he assumed the throne, he’s constantly felt like he hasn’t been doing enough for his kingdom. They looked to him for leadership and guidance and it was his job to provide that.

He bathed himself and combed his hair back so his crown would sit atop his head. He hasn’t worn it in a while, but the weight feels familiar and comforting. He also wears his good luck necklace, which holds his parent’s wedding rings on a chain. He’s worn it at every big event, starting with his father’s funeral. He wore it during his coronation and various meetings. It was another sense of comfort for him, and it was nice to wear it again.

When he enters his closet, he finds an outfit has already been selected for him, and his throat goes dry when he notices that the cape belonged to his father. He remembers being six years old, sitting in the cold library and his father would take off the cape and wrap it around George like it was a blanket. 

George runs his fingers over the red velvet and through the fur-lined collar. He hesitantly clips it around his shoulders and looks into the mirror.

He hardly recognizes himself. The red makes him look even paler than usual and the cape is far too large. His father had always been stronger than him, and significantly taller. The cape drags on the floor behind him, and the fabric is heavier than he expected.

He takes it off and folds it neatly. It doesn’t feel right; wearing his father’s ring or his crown was different. The cape was something that George saw his father wear all the time, and he had begun to associate his dad with the cape. It would never be George’s.

He decides to wear his own cape, which is a royal blue and suits him much better. Blue has always been his color anyway. George tucks his necklace under the silk shirt he’s wearing and pulls on an overshirt, which is a different shade of blue with gold accents.

When he exits the wardrobe, Dream is standing in his room.

“They’re ready, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing slightly. George swallows, his throat dry. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this nervous.

“Is everything alright?” Dream asks, his expression suddenly soft and full of concern.

“Do you think they still hate us? Arbor?”

“I… well, some of them might, but they don’t outweigh the majority who want peace just as much as we do.”

George takes a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Dream,” he admits. He feels like he’s letting his walls down and he’s unsure if he loves or hates the feeling.

“It’ll be alright” Dream reassures. He reaches out and takes George into his arms. “I’ll protect you,” he says, and George knows it’s a promise. 

George fits in Dream’s arms, and he feels tiny compared to Dream, but he also feels safe. He takes a deep breath, savoring a few more moments before pulling away.

“Ready?” Dream asks, and when George nods he truly means it.

When George steps out on the balcony, he can’t keep the grin off his face. It seems like the whole kingdom has shown up to hear his speech, and he sees a sea of people smiling and waving at him. There are children darting through the crowd playing tag, and toddlers sitting atop their parent’s shoulders to get a better view. The girls have all brought out their festival dresses and there’s music playing from various tents set up and down the street.

Everyone is clapping and cheering and George can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed, but Dream squeezes his hand reassuringly and George takes a deep breath. He’s practiced this speech a hundred times. 

“When I was younger, my father used to tell me, ‘any man can fight a war, but only the best can foster peace.’ This was a lesson I have taken with me, carried close to my heart. My father was a good man, and he taught me everything I know. I’m honored to stand here today and celebrate the peace that he was able to attain for this kingdom.”

As George continues his speech, he feels his nerves falling away. In the end, the crowd below erupts into shouts of joy, and the townsfolk are throwing poppies into the air. The music starts again and George can feel hope in the air.

George steps back from the railing and waves to his people. His vision is swimming and there’s so much going on he doesn’t know what to focus on. 

He feels the energy in the air shift before anything happens, but dread suddenly fills his stomach. He hears the general shout from behind him.

“Your Majesty look out!” and the general grabs George’s arm, suddenly yanking him away from the railing. George’s vision is a blur, but it clears when he sees the flash of Dream’s golden hair as he throws himself in front of George.

“No!” he cries as Dream’s shoulder is thrown back by some force that George can’t see, but when he crumples to the floor there’s an arrow sticking out of his chest, the tip having pierced his armor.

George claws at the general’s hands, trying to escape his grip, and run to Dream, who’s lying on the ground, but it’s no use. General Claude has always been stronger than him, and he’s dragging George away from the balcony towards the doors leading into the palace.

Dream looks at George and he looks like he has a thousand things to say, but he doesn’t have time to open his mouth. George is calling his name, begging for him as the general practically drags him through the castle to the bunker. 

Only when the door is locked does the general finally let George go. George knows there’s no way he’ll get out of this room, but he throws himself at the door anyway, tears streaming down his face.

He’s never been afraid like this. None of the past assassination attempts had ever amounted to any real danger, and even after everything, death was still something that he never thought about. He always assumed death was something for other people, but he was always safe. He never thought he’d come so close to being killed, and he’d surely never considered that someone else he cared for could be killed because of him.

_ Someone he cared for.  _ Dream meant something to him, and now… he could be gone forever. 

When General Claude takes George into his arms, he feels like a child all over again, mourning the death of his father. Just like when he was a child, he curls into a ball and weeps until there’s nothing left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the cliffhanger  
> but not really ;)  
> i hope y'all are still enjoying this. have a wonderful day my loves <3


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